Check This
by DamaDeHonor
Summary: Sam is possibly burnt out, and Dean is getting pretty nervous. Spoiler for Bloodlust: You look like you went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a raincheck.


**Author's Note: **Hey there! This is like my second only Supernatural fic, but I'm not asking for anyone to be kind. I wasn't even sure if I was going to post it here. "Then why did you _write_ it?" someone might wonder, quite sarcastically. "Because I couldn't go to sleep, darn it!" would be my answer. :D

Anyway, thank you to **VesperRegina** on fanfic, a.k.a **vespertanmer** on livejournal for beta-ing this nutty fic of mine. It was also her recommendation that I post it here, too, and not just at my lj, cuz, in her words, "You know no one reads your live journal but me, don't you?" ( --Paraphrasing.) My answer: "I know" also a parphrase. Cuz it was more like -- "heh, i know :)" --Rolls eyes at self-- Anyway, thanks a lot, bambina, really. :P Jst kiddin'. You know I love you!

So I'm dedicating this sibling-ly fic to you! Love, lylsister.

**Spoilers:** "Bloodlust", (timeline around there)

**Rating/Warning: **PG for mild language (actually, hints of worse language)

**- - - **

**"Check This"**

It had been too long since they'd last stopped for food or rest. Sam's legs were beginning to cramp from the tight space of the passenger seat.

Dean kept singing along to the radio, and Sam hadn't been able to sleep like he usually did when his brother was driving.

"Dean!"

Dean jumped and stared at Sam as if he was crazy, a look which he was becoming too familiar with. "Pull over already, man. My legs are cramping, I need to take a leak, and I'm tired of hearing you sing falsetto."

Dean glanced between him and the road, curiously, as if he were trying to decide whether to be amused or annoyed, and finally said, "What's got _your_ panties in a twist?"

Sam let his mouth go slack and his eyes narrow. That was all Dean really needed, to know how unwelcome that remark was, no matter how justified. He _was_ feeling pretty irritable at the moment, for some reason.

Dean shrugged. "Okay, whatever. First gas station or restaurant we see." He gave Sam a tight smile then returned to concentrating on his driving... and memorizing of lyrics.

Sam sighed, then sank back against the seat. Sometimes getting along with his older brother was just plain--

_"Sam?" Dean had wondered, as they left Gordon tied up in the house, with the promise to call someone to get him in three days._

_"Yeah?" Sam paused and turned to see what Dean wanted._

_"Clock me one." Dean ordered, looking as if he fully expected Sam to carry out that command._

_"What?" Sam questioned, incredulously._

_"Come on," Dean replied, as if this were something normal. "Come on, I won't even hit you back. Let's go." He was already psyching himself up for the blow._

_Sam had wheezed a nervous laugh, but said flatly, "No."_

_"Let's go! You get a freebie! Hit me! Come on!" Honestly, the guy had sounded almost jazzed._

_"You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean," Sam had replied, continuing to walk towards the Impala, "I'll take a raincheck."_

He'd said it jokingly, and to get Dean to let it go. But now he wondered if maybe he should've gone ahead and hit him, instead of letting the anger simmer.

Was it the reason he was so grouchy now? Nah. Couldn't be. Could it?

- - -

Dean wasn't sure, but he thought maybe Sam was giving him the evil eye. He tried _really_, really hard not to look at him, but he kept seeing this Sam-shaped scary-stare in his peripheral vision.

Chancing a glance, he looked back toward the road quickly and restrained the urge to whistle under his breath. Sam was _definitely_ giving him that "I want to choke the life out of you" look.

Usually, in this situation, he would have asked his kid brother what was going on in that abnormally ginormous head of his. But he was getting the distinct impression that said brother would probably chomp his _own_ head clean off if he did.

_'Maybe he'll settle down once we get some food,' _he offered himself. _'Or maybe he'll kill me and hide the body in the trunk.' _The morbid thought made him smile.

"What's so funny?" Sam demanded, suddenly, making Dean start for the second time, already.

"Sheesh," Dean answered, Sam's annoyance rubbing off on him finally. "Would you stop yelling? Makes me think you saw a ghost or something."

Sam gave him an uncomfortable, closed-mouth grimace, the kind he'd had when Dean had put itching powder in his pants. "Sorry. I guess I have a headache, or something."

Dean raised a brow. "You _guess_ you have a headache?"

"Yeah," Sam snapped, looking out the window and mumbling the rest, "I guess."

_'O_kay_. getting a little stir-crazy, cuckoo for cocoapuffs,' _Dean mentally teased, since if he did it out loud, Sam would probably clock hi--

_'Wait a sec.'_ Dean's eyes narrowed as a thought dawned on him, _'Is he mad about me slugging him before?'_ He frowned as the line of reasoning continued, _'I told him to hit me, and he flat-out refused. So if that's his problem, he had his chance and blew it. Even made a joke out of it about a rain--' _Dean's eyes slowly widened. _'--check.'_

- - -

Sam was feeling a little better now that he had some food in his stomach, and his legs weren't tingling from being cooped up for so long. On the other hand, his ears wouldn't stop ringing for some reason.

Cleaning one of them with a finger, Sam left the bathroom and called to Dean, who was flopped out on one of the twin beds, "Shower's free."

Dean sat up a bit too quickly, and Sam paused before sitting down on the other bed. Dean's eyes were a bit too round to be called "normal," and he was breathing sort of rapidly, like he'd just woken up from a bad dream.

"Are you okay?" Sam questioned, carefully, not wanting to open a whole new can of worms by annoying his touchy to touchy-feely moments brother.

Dean blinked slowly. "Oh, uh, sure. What'd you say?"

"Shower's free," Sam repeated, sitting down on the edge of his bed. "Were you having a bad dream?"

Dean frowned. "What're you talking about? I wasn't even asleep."

Sam held up his hands. "Okay, whatever you say."

Dean rose, eyes narrowed, grumbling as he headed for the bathroom, "Whatever I say..."

Sam smirked to himself, shook his head and decided to kick back for awhile. He lay back against the pillows, hands and arms supporting his neck, and closed his eyes.

- - -

Dean peeked out of the bathroom door, wondering if Sam was going to be napping or at his laptop. _'Oh, thank God,'_ his mind betrayed him by thinking, when he saw that Sammy was asleep.

Smiling to himself, he slipped out of the bathroom, still drying his hair with one of the complementary, white towels. He started humming to himself, absently, as he left the towel draped over the desk chair and went to fiddle with the clock on the night table situated between the two beds.

_'Don't know why I'm so skittish. It's not like Sammy's gonna kill me or something. And even if he __is mad, it's not like he's gonna punch me, either. I mean, come _on,' he began reasoning, as he figured out how to set the alarm on the clock.

"Would you quit that?"

Dean flinched and accidentally dropped the clock when he did. The big, honking thing clattered onto the table and fell off the side, so Dean jumped back to avoid getting one of his bare feet squashed by it.

Then, embarrassed by his skittishness, he looked toward Sam, the instigator, and saw that he hadn't even opened his eyes. He was just laying there, arms behind his head, an annoyed quirk to his lips and eyelids flickering.

"I thought you were asleep," Dean groused, stooping to pick up the clock. He sat down on the edge of his bed and started messing with it again.

"Not with you humming like that, I'm not," Sam retorted, sounding as if he'd been _that_ close to falling asleep.

_'Uh, oh. Maybe should've stayed in the bathroom.'_

"Sorry, I'll keep my humming to myself from now on," he said, lightly, and set the clock on the table again.

"Never mind," Sammy answered, and swung himself up into a sitting position. He glared at Dean, blearily, and Dean wondered if he should pretend not to notice and go to sleep.

"Uhm," he opted not to, "I said I was sorry?"

Sam pursed his lips. Not a good sign. "Actually, you said 'Sorry,' which usually means the opposite when someone says it the way you just did."

_'Stage two: snarkyness.'_

"Oh, uhm," he answered, feeling as if he'd been backed into a corner somehow. "Didn't know that... nice to know... for future reference and al--"

Sam suddenly got to his feet--all six-foot-four of him, and Dean instinctively leaned back and away. Sam frowned, blinked, then muttered as he turned toward the door, "I'm gonna get a snack."

The door slammed behind him, and Dean let out a breath. _'Whoa.'_ Why did he keep getting the feeling he was completely screwed?

- - -

Sam wasn't sure if he was angry or just burnt-out. But he definitely had an increasing desire to throttle someone--specifically Dean.

As he shuffled back to the motel room, soda in hand, he tried to figure out why he was mad _now_ about Dean hitting him, rather than when he'd actually delivered the blow.

_'Well, I was kind of more hurt than angry. I mean, I was just trying to get him to admit to himself what he was doing. Sure, maybe I pushed him a little too far-- Anyway, maybe now that I'm not focusing on that, the fact that he hit me, like _I_ was the one doing something stupid, is starting to rankle.'_

Whatever it was, it wasn't just affecting _him_ anymore, it was starting to get to Dean, too. He was pretty sure that the usually fearless demon-slayer had recoiled from him, earlier.

It would've almost have been funny, if it weren't for the fact that he'd pretty much given Dean a warning. _'Raincheck _this_, mother--!'_

Sam grinned, perversely, at the idea as he slipped back into their motel room. And then he saw Dean, pretending to be asleep, and his smile faded. He set his unopened soda on the desk and crept closer to Dean's bed.

"Samm-!"

Thud. "Oomph!" Crash.

"No! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay? Don't hit me!" Dean yelled, fairly panicked, eyes squeezed shut and arms up.

Sam stared down at him for a moment, and then cracked up laughing, rolled over onto his back on the, now, one-footed bed, and covered his eyes with an arm as he continued to guffaw.

"Oh, hilarious," Dean retorted, all huffy sarcasm and flustered dignity now. He sat up, pretending to straighten out his t-shirt. "You could _warn_ a guy before you decide to dog-pile 'em, couldn't you?"

Sam finally caught his breath and propped himself up on his elbows and smirked at his brother. "Admit it," he told him.

Dean's eyes narrowed, suspiciously. "Admit what?"

Sam shrugged. "I got you _good_." He grinned, and Dean started shaking his head.

"You little--"

"What's that, Dean?" Sam wondered, rolling off the bed and returning to his own, "'Don't hit me!'?" He smiled toward Dean's nonplussed face, smugly. "Don't worry. I'll take a raincheck."

-end-


End file.
